


Need

by RandomTVJunk



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Incest, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of torture, this version of Ramsay is probably a little romanticized
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 19:45:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandomTVJunk/pseuds/RandomTVJunk
Summary: Ramsay thinks about the relationships in his life, and whether they give him what he most requires.





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my tumblr stories. As I have no idea how long this will now stay there or if I'm even staying there I have decided to move it here.

Ramsay wanted Reek to fear him, but only  _when_  he wanted Reek to fear him.

It had taken him a long time to get Reek to kiss him without fear.

“I kept your tongue for a reason,” Ramsay had once barked after a chaste, dry meeting of mouths, saying it even as he was aware that this wasn’t helping to convince Reek to relax.

“I’m sorry,” he’d whispered, planting a sloppy kiss on Reek’s forehead.

In time, the fear abated, and Reek kissed him passionately, giving himself over to Ramsay’s dominance. In those moments, when Reek’s hands explored his body with the confidence his master had gifted him, and he sucked at Ramsay’s tongue, making him gasp and lose himself, he almost regretted never taking this opportunity with Theon. 

No, no. Theon was a slut, wanton, out of control. 

Reek was pure. Reek was good. Reek was  _his_.

Some days, when he sat in the bath with Reek, whispering for Reek to lean back against his chest and not to fear, he thought of others.

He thought of Myranda, who kissed and touched him as if it were a game, a game she somehow believed she was winning, even if she wasn’t stupid enough to admit as much to him. He enjoyed the fantasy, playing her as she thought she was playing him, but he would grow bored soon, as he always did.

He thought of his father, who’d long refused to kiss him even as he’d slowly given in to the pleasures of Ramsay’s mouth and skilled fingers.

 _Kissing is dangerous_ , Father had warned him, weeks earlier.  _I see the way you kiss him. I know what you are under the knives, Ramsay. The first time he kissed back, you dropped the knife. Who, I wonder, will pick it up first?_

When Father, for all his own warnings to Ramsay, had finally pulled him close one day, crushed their mouths together, an electric spark had gone through Ramsay. The final piece of the puzzle, completed. Yet no matter how satisfied he was, he knew the kiss was, and would likely always be, on his father’s terms. 

With Reek, he set the terms. He knew what Reek needed and wanted, how Reek was happy by making him happy. He’d expected to tire of his toy, but Reek was a consistent surprise, as well as a token of good fortune. Father was wrong about Reek. He had to be.

He massaged Reek’s temples, not wanting to leave the tub until the water began to turn cool.

“Reek,” he said, pausing to place another kiss on his servant’s mouth, hand brushing Reek’s throat, half gesture of affection, half threat, “promise me you will never forget who you are.”

Reek attempted to smile at him, fear warring with satisfaction and confusion.

“I am yours, m'lord.”

 _Yes_ , Ramsay thought, giving him another quick peck on the lips, danger in the air.  _Yes, of course you are._


End file.
